


Like Dick Ouija But With Yarn

by HappiKatt



Series: Tumblr oneshots/ficlets/suggestions [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dick Jokes, F/F, Ficlet, High School, Humanstuck, Illustrated, M/M, Yarn, look i dont know what i can tell you that you cant discern from the title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 04:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10655358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappiKatt/pseuds/HappiKatt
Summary: Suggested ficlet from tumblr, featuring two boys getting tricked into a knitting club and attempting (and failing) to rebel in their own special way.“What’re you in for?”“Apparently, I’m being too ‘antisocial’ and ‘am wasting my life away’ and ‘my friends are worried about me’ or some such bullshit. You?”“Swore a life debt to a snarky broad with a sadistic streak the size of planet fuckin’ Jupiter.”“…That’s rough, buddy.”





	Like Dick Ouija But With Yarn

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous asked:  
> for a drabble would dave and karkat in ninth grade meeting during rose and kanaya's knitting/crocheting club be okay? like rose and kanaya forced them to join and they're just there in the corner trying to find a way to crochet the words "Fuck you"

“Rose, this is horseshit.” 

“Hey, now, you agreed to do me a favor! We agreed that you owe me one for helping you out of that little hole you dug yourself regarding Mrs. Stout —”

“Yeah, and I assumed you’d want me to do something stupid and embarrassing, but you didn’t say anything about fucking _knitting.”_

“Crochet, not knitting, Dave.” 

“Same fuckin’ difference,” Dave said. “I didn’t know the school even _had_ a fuckin’ crotchit club, what the fuck.” 

“I’m trying to puzzle out if that particular verbal slip was intentional or not. It can be so very hard to tell sometimes.” 

Dave snorted and didn’t dignify Rose with a response. This was infuriating. This was a fucking insult, a god damn atrocity. Fuckin’ _yarn._ Horseshit. 

“Don’t even know how to do whatever the fuck we’re doing,” he complained, slumping down into a chair. Some of the actual club members were trickling in, not that there appeared to be all that many. The one or two who were here stared at Dave out of the corner of their eyes. 

“There’s a guide on the basics on one of the desks,” said Rose. “And Kanaya and I can give you tips, if necessary.” 

“Who?” 

“A…friend of mine. She’ll be here soon, I’m sure.” 

“Rose, please tell me you didn’t trick me into this horseshit just to act as your fuckin’ wingman so you can flirt with some hot girl.” 

“Please,” Rose said. “As if I need your help to talk to anyone. I just thought having you here might be amusing, is all.” 

“You’re not denying being here to hit it off with some chick.” 

“And you will continue to get no clarification from me on that particular topic.” 

Shouting from the hallway interrupted them. Very colorful shouting, at that. Shit, someone was not happy. 

‘Someone’ turned out to be a short, spiky-haired kid Dave vaguely recognized as some cantankerous kid he’d noticed in the cafeteria the week before, having an absolute meltdown at one of his friends. Dave didn’t know his name, but the face was familiar, if only because it is very hard to forget someone who says things like “I will shit miles of rage snake and drown us all if you don’t shut your fucking trap.”

The boy in question flopped down in a seat not too far from Dave. He was followed into the room by a tall, elegant looking girl who was almost definitely the one Rose was hoping to score with (Dave knew Rose’s type by well, and, well, God _damn)_. The girl, Kanaya, briefly addressed everyone, shoved a basket of yarn and needles in the short kid’s direction with an encouraging if slightly overbearing Look, and scuttled off to chat with Rose. 

Dave glanced at the short kid. “What’re you in for?” he asked. 

The kid grunted. “Apparently, I’m being too ‘antisocial’ and ‘am wasting my life away’ and ‘my friends are worried about me’ or some such bullshit. You?” 

“Swore a life debt to a snarky broad with a sadistic streak the size of planet fuckin’ Jupiter.” 

“…That’s rough, buddy.” 

“I’m Dave, by the way.”

“Karkat.” 

Karkat was angrily pulling yarn toward him and studying the directions with a scowl that was probably meant to be fierce but came off more like a kitten doing a bulldog impression. 

“Dude, the fuck?” Dave said. 

“I refuse to sit in this godforsaken club room and be bored out of my mind for the next hour. They want crochet? Fine. I’ll crochet them the most lovingly-rendered stitchwork of my endless fucking hate they have ever received. I’ll write my fury with their wretched yarn.”

“…So, what, are you like. Gonna write “fuck you’ with yarn?” 

“Exactly.” 

“Dude, count me the fuck in.” 

Fifteen minutes later, their little project looked like some first grader’s shitty paper mache volcano, only made of cottony rainbows instead of gross, soggy paper. Dave was trying to make sense of the instructions Rose had given them, while Karkat saw to the actual process of knitting. Dave dropped the page and groaned. 

“This is boring. I’m bored.” 

“Artistry takes patience, calm the fuck down,” said Karkat. 

“Artistry? It looks fucking atrocious, give me the damn needles.” 

“No, I’ve got it! I — you made me miss a stitch, dipshit!” 

“Oh, no, what a nightmare, one more missed stitch in this disaster of a lump of yarn. Give it here, dude, come on, I’m gonna try and do a dick.” 

“Keep your phallic imagery off of my masterpiece. What are you, twelve?”

_“Your_ masterpiece? I’m fucking offended, dude.” 

“It was my idea!” 

“I’m helping!” 

“Yes, and what a fantastic job you’ve done sabotaging me at every turn!”

“Give me the needles, dammit!”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No!!!” 

“Yes!” 

“Get the fuck off me holy shit!” 

“What on Earth are you two doing over there?” asked Kanaya. Shit, the whole club was staring at them. 

“Nothing!!!” said Karkat. 

“Building the Taj Mahal, what are you doing?” said Dave. 

“Dave,” Rose said, “you have yarn tangled in your hair.” 

“Tryin’ out a new look.” 

“…You have fun with that, then.” 

Dave tried to wriggle free as the girls turned back to whatever it was they were gossiping about. Karkat immediately started complaining. 

“Dave, holy shit, stop, you’re tugging at the shit I’m working with, you’re gonna make it even worse!” 

“So, what, I should just get sewn into your fuckin’ awful lump of sheep fur? Dude, I need to get this shit off me, I refuse to be part of your shitty scarf or blanket or whatever the fuck this thing is.” 

“Of course we need to get you free, but you’re doing a really fucking shitty job of it, let me do it —”

“Hey, hands off the merchandise.” 

“Oh, grow up, you insufferable, hopeless klutz.” 

“Klutz? I am a graceful fucking ballerina. I will dance circles around your slow, blundering ass. Hey, woah, no touching the shades, they’re off limits.” 

“Some of the yarn’s caught in the hinges, you’re gonna have to take them off.” 

“Yeah, no, that’s not happening.” 

“Oh, my God, just take them off, you doofus!” 

“No!” 

“Yes!” 

“Okay, I’m cutting us off right there, that’s not happening. I’m just gonna grab a pair of fucking scissors woah shit—”

Somewhere in his and Karkat’s flailing at each other, yarn had gotten looped even worse around the both of them, trapping Dave’s arm to his side and yanking Karkat over as Dave tried to stand. Both crashed back to the ground. 

“Fuck,” said Dave. Karkat started screaming.

 

* * *

 

It took most of the rest of the hour for Kanaya and Rose to help Karkat and Dave untangle themselves. The whole time, the two kept exchanging these infuriating Looks, like they were laughing at some private joke, which was extra bullshit considering the fantastically humiliating public joke that was the entire fucking situation. Thank fuck the crochet club was tiny, because if anyone else Dave knew had been there, Dave would never live this shit down. You don’t recover from something like getting wrapped in rainbow fuzz with a small angry screaming dude over the equivalent of a lost bet. 

Karkat made matters worse, of course, by screaming and flailing about throughout the entire process and re-tangling them as fast as the girls cut them loose. Finally, as the hour ended, they were both free. 

“Shit, dude,” said Dave. “It’s a shame you’re actually fucking terrible at this knitting thing, because if there were ever a time your fuckin’ magnum opus were needed, it’s now.” 

“Oh, fuck right off,” Karkat snapped. “You are the entire reason that we have nothing to show for this whole affair.”

“You were stifling my creativity, motherfucker.” 

“Oh, yeah, because covering it with dicks is so fucking original, you cliche sack of shit.” 

“Karkat,” Kanaya interrupted, “We need to go, your father’s going to get irritated with both of us if we keep him waiting.” She managed to drag Karkat away, somehow, but Dave could hear him still ranting away. Despite himself, Dave laughed under his breath.

Rose looked at Dave, eyes pointed and a grin tugging at the edges of her lips. 

Dave scowled at her, and said, “You put that fuckin’ smugass smile away, I’m still fuckin’ pissed at you.” 

“I take it you’ll be coming to the next meeting, at least?” 

“…Sure, why the fuck not. Got nothin’ better to do on Thursdays.” 


End file.
